


Ace of Hearts

by SoldierBorn87



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Stiles Stilinski, Coming Out, F/M, Jealousy, Like really slow, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Sexual Identity, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, monsters of the week - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 07:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2683685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoldierBorn87/pseuds/SoldierBorn87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn’t like sex. Which is weird, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In regards to canon compliance:
> 
> This fic follows canon almost all the way to the end of S03B. The only significant change being that the last five minutes of the season didn't happen. In this universe Kate never came back from the dead, Derek was never kidnapped, and things were pretty quiet (at least for a little while) after the nogitsune. 
> 
> In regards to the representation of asexuality in this fic:
> 
> More than anything this is a story about self-discovery and self-acceptance, which is not always an easy thing. I chose asexuality as the vehicle for Stiles' struggles mostly because it's less personal to me than other gender and sexuality issues. However, the fact that I have yet to encounter a fic where the asexual character(s) represented haven't got it all figured out also played a part. Throughout the writing process, I have done (and will continue to do) my best to remain respectful to the Ace community while still telling a story I want to tell. Because frankly, this is probably the hardest fic I have ever set out to write, but it is also probably the most truthful. If, by chance, you find anything in here offensive (or see something that you think should be tagged and isn't), please let me know, so I can add additional warnings. The absolute last thing I want to do is unexpectedly trigger someone.

Stiles doesn’t like sex. Which is weird, right?

Sex is supposed to be this amazing thing, a fundamental base desire that everyone needs to satisfy over and over because it’s just so awesome. Television, movies, books; everything around him seems, in one way or another, to be about sex and how great it is. And worse yet, it’s all anyone around him ever talks about. 

Well, that and werewolves. Werewolves and werewolf-related problems make up a pretty big part of his life now.

But still.

Stiles is so tired of it. So frustrated by it.

He’d always assumed he was missing out on some big thing, some great experience, but now that’s he’s got a girlfriend and they’re having sex on the regular it’s… He just knows better now, all right.

Sex isn’t great.

It’s awful.

Instead of feeling psyched, ecstatic, over the moon – crazy goofy happy like Scott when he first started having sex – Stiles feels at best numb, at worst sick.

Most days Stiles wakes up wishing he’d never started having sex because honestly, he feels cheated. Like he’s been lied to his entire life.

Sex is supposed to be great, the epitome of awesome. But it isn’t.

Oh, Stiles enjoys kissing. And cuddling. And _some_ touching. But mostly sex just feels awkward to him. And not awkward like when he trips over his own feet or rambles for too long, but awkward like when he’s not sure whether he’s going to throw up or not.

It’s not okay.

***

Malia notices, of course. Not right away, but eventually. Eventually, she notices how he keeps them kissing for as long as he can or how he shifts away when her hands reach for certain places on his body or how once she gets off he stops, even if he’s still hard.

“What’s wrong?” she finally snaps one night after Stiles has dodged her third attempt to get his pants off.

“I don’t –” Stiles stops. What’s he supposed to say? I don’t want sex? What kind of teenage boy says that?

“I don’t know,” Stiles says. His heart is racing and he may or may not be on the verge of panicking. He doesn’t know how to explain this. When it was all a thing in his head it – well, it wasn’t fine, but he could cope. The point is he could deal. But now Malia’s dragging it out into the open and he…

Stiles isn’t ready, okay. He doesn’t want to face the fact that he’s – 

“Hey, what is it?” Malia asks, touching his shoulder.

Stiles flinches. He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t handle this conversation and her touching him at the same time. He just can’t. It’s too much.

Malia pulls away like she’s been slapped.

“No," Stiles says. "Oh, no. I… Sorry. Shit.”

God, he’s fucking everything up. Why can’t he just tell her the truth? There has to be a way to describe how he’s feeling that she’ll understand. There has to. Because it’s not her. It’s really not.

Malia is gorgeous and fun and Stiles genuinely enjoys spending time with her. Hell, kissing her is one of the highlights of his days now, but anything more and…

“Okay. Here’s the thing. I–”

“Are you sick?” Malia interrupts. “You don’t smell sick.”

“What? No. I’m just…”

“Do you not want me anymore?”

“No. I want you. Of course I do. I just…” Stiles takes a deep breath and maybe hopes for a miracle. “I just don’t want sex.”

Malia scrunches up her nose. “Why?”

“I– I don’t know.”

Stiles wants to scream. Why can’t he find the right words? Say the right thing? Why can’t he be normal? Why can’t he enjoy sex like everyone else seems to? Why is everything so fucked up?

Stiles doesn’t even realize he’s spaced out until he notices Malia pulling on her shirt and reaching for her shoes.

“What are you…?”

“I’m gonna go,” Malia says, not even looking at him.

“No, Malia. Wait, it’s not –” Stiles tries to reach for her, but she’s too quick.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Stiles,” she says, swinging out his window without so much as a backwards glance.

Stiles stares at the open window and wonders what the hell just happened. Did he really just turn down sex? Did he really just chase his girlfriend away? 

Stiles buries his face in his pillow and thinks about smothering himself. Why didn’t he just go with it? Why didn’t he just give in like every other time? It’s not like it hurts. Sure he feels awkward and slightly sick afterwards, but it doesn’t hurt. Not really. Not physically.

God, he’s so messed up. 

And Stiles knows he’s messed up because part of him is so relieved not to have been forced to endure the experience of sex again that he’s actually thankful. How fucked up is that? He’s happy that he didn’t get laid.

Stiles feels tears start to form and shuts his eyes tight until the feeling passes. He may be broken and fucked up, but he is not going to cry over it. He’s not.

After a while his breathing calms and he’s able to get up and close his window. Part of him thinks about grabbing his computer while he’s up; thinks about typing these weird feelings into a search bar and seeing what shows up. Maybe it’s a curse of some kind? 

He’s so tired, though. He’s passed exhausted and needs sleep and this thing – whatever it is – will still be waiting for him in the morning. He can look into it then.

Stiles crawls back into bed and promises himself he’ll look into it in the morning, deliberately ignoring the fact that he’s been promising himself that same thing for weeks without actually taking any action. Some things are just easier to face than others. And this, this notion that he might be broken in such a fundamental way, is way harder to face than any werewolf, kanima, darach, or fox demon ever was.


	2. Chapter 2

Malia breaks up with him.

Stiles tries again to explain what the problem is, but he still doesn’t have the words and Malia really doesn’t have the patience. Stiles doesn’t blame her. He wouldn’t want to stay with him either.

Scott keeps asking him what happened and if he’s okay and Stiles keeps putting him off. He doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s done. It’s over with. There’s nothing anyone can do to change it. So he puts on a smile and says he’s fine. Then he distracts Scott with talk of the upcoming lacrosse tryouts or the latest weird murder that Stiles knows his dad is trying to keep from him.

Scott eventually lets it go and everything goes back to normal. 

Well, sort of.

Clearly Malia talks about the break up more than he does because Lydia starts eyeing Stiles between classes. First it’s with something close to contempt – which Stiles figures he deserves for hurting Malia – but then it changes to something more akin to concern.

Stiles ignores it. Or he tries to anyway.

He’s a freak who doesn’t enjoy sex. He’s accepted that. It’s fact. He doesn’t need or want Lydia’s pity on top of that. He just wants to be left alone.

Could everyone just back off a step and leave him the fuck alone? Please?

***

It turns out that the weird murders Stiles’ father has been dealing with are the work of a windigo. And Stiles is the first one to run into it face-to-fangs, because of course he is. This is his life. No sex and new horrifying supernatural shit every time he turns around.

It takes the pack eight days from the time Stiles encounters it – no matter what anybody says he was not trying to sneak into the morgue to find clues about the murderer because he missed Malia – his dad abusing department resources, and more fire than Derek (or Stiles for that matter) is comfortable being around, but they finally take the bitch down. 

Beacon Hills is once again saved by teenagers. Hurray. Or something.

Fuck. What are their lives?

***

Stiles is cleaning up at the loft. 

Derek offered the use of his shower and some blood-free clothes and… Well, at the end of the day, Stiles will fully admit that he really doesn’t like the idea of his dad catching sight of him covered in so much blood. Most of it’s not his, it’s the windigo’s, but still. It’s not good for his dad’s heart. 

So yeah. Stiles follows Derek home, showers, puts on his underwear, bandages the few cuts and scrapes that need it, and dresses in the clean sweats and t-shirt Derek handed him before he entered the bathroom. 

They’re a bit big, a bit too loose in the hips and shoulders, but they’ll do. After all, it’s not like he’s planning on going to Jungle or anything.

“What would be the point anyway?” Stiles mutters, looking at himself in the mirror. The baggy clothes only serve to emphasize the whole death-warmed-over look he’s had going on the last few days.

Stiles probes at the dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t really slept since… God, he doesn’t even know when. Hopefully everyone will attribute it to the windigo and leave him alone.

It’s not that he’s having nightmares again. Or that he’s afraid to go to sleep like before. The nogitsune is gone; he knows that. He can feel it. 

No, this is more like… Like he can’t turn his brain off. Can’t shut it up. Every night he lies down to sleep and just as he’s about to drift off his brain reminds him: oh yeah, he doesn’t like sex. He’s fucked up. He’s broken. There’s something wrong with him. Malia left him and Lydia knows and Scott will think he’s crazy and… It just keeps going. Infinite repeat. He’s fucked up. He’s broken. He’s going to be alone for the rest of his life. It never ends.

Maybe he should talk to Scott’s mom about getting a prescription for some sort of sleep aid?

Stiles shivers. No. No way. The nogitsune may be gone, but what if something else comes along? Stiles needs to be able to – 

Derek knocks on the door. “Hey, you done in there?”

Stiles startles and consequently flails, banging his elbow on the counter. “Ow. Fuck.”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute. Just… One minute.”

Stiles bites his lip and breathes through the worst of the pain. Once it’s settled down to a manageable throbbing, he finishes putting away Derek’s meager first aid kit and picks up his bloody clothes. They’re ruined of course. There’s no saving them, but that doesn’t mean Stiles won’t try. He likes this shirt.

It’s his stud muffin shirt.

“You okay?” Derek asks, when Stiles finally emerges from the bathroom.

“Fine. Just accidently banged my elbow. Do you have a bag?” Stiles indicates his clothes.

“Under the kitchen sink.”

“Thanks.”

Stiles heads into the loft’s kitchen area and digs out a plastic bag to dump his clothes in. He really should just throw them in the garbage when he gets home, but… 

“Stiles.” Stiles looks over to see Derek leaning against one of the nearby pillars. “Seriously, are you okay?”

Stiles wants to know why Derek cares. It’s not like they're friends. If you don’t count the time he spent as the nogitsune, Stiles hasn’t even really seen Derek since just after the final showdown between the Alpha Pack and Ms. Blake. This windigo thing’s the first real interaction they’ve had in months.

And maybe that’s why Stiles decides to tell Derek the truth, because Derek and he aren’t close. There’s no harm in telling him. If Derek looks at him funny or tells him he’s a freak it’s not going to hurt the way he knows it would if it were Scott or his dad.

Besides, maybe if he gets it out of his head he’ll finally be able to get some sleep.

Stiles sighs and slumps against the counter. “No. No, I’m not.” 

Derek straightens. “Did the windigo…?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, just some cuts from the claws and bruises from being thrown into the side of that freezer unit. I’m fine.”

Derek raises an eyebrow.

“Physically. I’m fine physically. Um… You know that Malia and I broke up, right?” Stiles says, rubbing the back of his neck. God, he’s really going to do this isn’t he?

Derek nods.

“Um. Do you know why?”

Derek shrugs. “Not really my business, but from what Scott's been saying during our runs I gather it wasn’t a painless break up.”

Stiles shakes his head. He’d forgotten Scott and Derek had started running together every couple of evening as a form of pack bonding, since they’re technically the only two werewolves left in Beacon Hills now that Isaac’s taken off with Chris. 

Peter doesn’t count, okay. Everyone knows this.

“So what happened?”

Stiles swallows hard. “I– I don’t like sex.”

“Okay.” 

Stiles flails. How can Derek be so calm? This is a big deal. “No, you don’t get it. I hate sex. I know I’m supposed to love it and want it all the time, but I don’t. It makes me feel weird and sick and I –”

“Look, Stiles, sometimes people just don’t click sexually and it’s not anybody’s fault. It happens.” 

“But I really liked Malia. I enjoyed being with her and kissing her and holding her. It was just the sex. I mean, I’m sure we were doing it right and everything, Malia seemed to enjoy it fine, but I… It could be a gay thing right?” Stiles says suddenly. Desperately. “Please tell me this is a gay thing.”

Derek looks at him. “Are you gay?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? I… Sometimes I find guys attractive? Like I can appreciate that some guys have great shoulders or arms in the same way some girls have great hair or breasts. It’s confusing. I’ve tried talking to Danny about it, but he always blows me off.”

Derek sighs like Stiles is making his life incredibly difficult. “Do you want to have sex with any of these guys you find attractive?”

Stiles thinks about it. He thinks about the hot senior who was on the lacrosse team last year, the one who first got him thinking about the whole liking guys thing. He pictures them kissing like he used to and then tries picturing them going further and his stomach rolls.

“Nope. No way,” Stiles says, shaking his head with conviction and pushing the images firmly from his mind. At this rate, he doesn’t think even Lydia Martin herself could tempt me into trying sex again. 

God, he’s so broken.

“I’m a freak, aren’t I?” Stiles says, as he slides down the side of the counter and wraps his arms around his drawn-up knees. “There’s something wrong with me.”

Derek clears his throat. “Stiles, can I ask you a personal question?”

Stiles shrugs. “Sure. Why not? It’s not like this conversation could possibly get any worse.”

“Do you enjoy masturbating?”

Stiles is wrong. It can get worse. So much worse. “What?”

“Stiles, don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Um… Do you…?” Stiles gestures.

“Yes. Not for a while after Kate, but yes, I like to masturbate.”

“Well, this isn’t awkward at all. I…don’t? I mean, it’s good for relieving stress. Sometimes. But other than that… I just always thought it was because I was by myself. That once there was another person involved it would be better?”

“Trust me,” Derek says. “Masturbation can be really good even if you’re alone.”

“So, what you’re saying is I’ve always been broken. It’s not just a sudden thing.”

“Stiles, you’re not broken. There is nothing wrong with not liking sex. There are lots of people who don’t.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No. It’s called asexuality. And it’s as complex and diverse as any other sexuality.”

“How do you know about this?”

“Laura.” Derek looks away. “She…” Derek takes a breath and then slowly lets it out. “She was asexual.”

“Really?”

Derek nods. Then he sits down on the floor, legs crossed, back still resting against the column. He looks sad, but not uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Just having a word for it is enough. I can,” Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. I can research it. I’m good at that.”

“You are,” Derek says, looking over at Stiles. “And once you start looking into it, you’ll see there are lots of resources available, lots of places where you can get answers or talk to others who are ace. Honestly,” Derek says, glancing down at his hands. “Laura and I ended up in New York not so much because we had pack ties up that way, but because she had an ace friend she’d met on-line who was willing to help us disappear.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Her name’s Brax. She’s a fire kitsune.”

“That’s how you knew about Kira.”

Derek nods.

Stiles blinks and tries to think of something to say. This is… It’s unreal. Stiles is… Well, he’s still not normal, but he’s not wrong either. He’s just different.

“I can see if I still have Brax’s number somewhere and ask if she’d be willing to talk to you. It might help.”

Stiles nods. He’s started shaking, but in a good way.

“Stiles?”

“Um, yeah. That would be good. Great. Thanks.”

Derek leans forward a bit looking like he’s bracing himself for Stiles to suddenly have a break down or something. “You okay?”

“I’m not a freak,” Stiles says. God, he could cry with how free he suddenly feels. He’s not a freak. He’s not broken. 

Derek smiles at him. “No, you’re not.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always welcome. And, if you're interested, my tumblr exists [here](http://soldier-born87.tumblr.com).


End file.
